From the sepia-toned grating of the wind-up Victrola that opens "Over the Sun," you immediately get the feeling that the increasingly basket-cased Wright may be tipping over once again into darkness. In the six years since she achieved indie acclaim with her band Crowsdell, she's mapped an ever more pressing path towards desperate loneliness. "I will do without you! I will do without you!" she mutedly screams on "With Closed Eyes," and you understand that there's a fair chance she will. Steve Albini's adept framing of the most miserable moments appears again in its full glory: dripping guitar lines, burnt-out vocals, serial plodding and the sense that somebody's got some candles lit in the studio. That said, "Over the Sun" marks something of a comedown from some of Wright's earlier works, trading in much of her banshee howl for a more bed-sit style of rhythmic poetry, and producing an engaging, coherent misery from cover to cover. Now if only Courtney Love would take her cue.